


Domino

by Terminallydepraved



Series: Works for Others [11]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Daddy Kink, Gunplay, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 19:32:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8026180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: You can only take so much before you break, and Gabe found his limit. Jesse McCree was always that limit.





	Domino

**Author's Note:**

> commission fic for the lovely princequeerdeer on tumblr! thank you for the patronage!

“So where, exactly, did the mission go wrong,” the base commander asked, his voice threaded with steel as he stood at parade rest at the head of the table, “if none of you are to blame?”

The attention fell to Gabriel and he forced his face into an unreadable mask, cursing in every language he knew that this had happened under his watch. It didn’t matter who was responsible. Not really. When the team looked to you for guidance, there were no excuses to give when everything came crashing down spectacularly.

“Blackwatch is the single most divisive asset we have. Failure isn’t an option, and attention-grabbing sure as hell isn’t either. I’m looking at you for answers here, Reyes,” he bit, staring straight at Gabe with complete blame in his eyes. “You wanna explain to me how the hell our secret ops team was plastered across every goddamn newspaper in the country?!”

Swallowing, Gabe schooled his expression into one of steely defiance. “Missions fall through sometimes,” he said plainly, his voice harsh. “Variables come up. You mitigated the fallout. We’ll learn from this.”

A fist hit the table hard enough to make the present officers jolt, McCree nearly upsetting his leaning chair in shock. “That’s not good enough, Reyes!” the commander yelled, going from angry to pissed in the time it took to blink.

It was going to have to be, because he sure as shit wasn’t going to throw his team under the bus, even if they sorely did deserve it. Or well, one of them did. The brat wasn’t even paying attention, content to let Gabe take the heat off him and fix his mistakes like he always did.

“Well, I’m sorry if that doesn’t suit you, Mitchells, but sometimes shit happens!” he shouted back, standing up to glare daggers at the man threatening his command. “If you want someone to blame, you blame me.”

Mitchells looked about angry enough to spit. “Oh, I will, Reyes. I’ve disliked your attitude from day one and this shitshow you threw on my desk with your own incompetence is enough to make me think you don’t deserve your command.” A ruthless smile spread across his face at the thought. “You may be an asset with this team of yours, but there are other people to put in charge. Other, more qualified, people. You and your band of criminals and freaks aren’t worth the liability you present.”

He ground his teeth and didn’t back down. Mitchells was all talk. He was one commander of one base out of Overwatch’s dozen. He didn’t have the pull to do something like that, and even if he did have aspirations for more power, there was no risk of Gabe getting anything more than another note in his file. Wasn’t like he didn’t have plenty in there already. Wasn’t like his file would ever see the light of day anyway, given the kind of shit he did for Overwatch so assholes like this didn’t have to get their hands dirty.

Gabe schooled his temper and let out a slow, measured breath. Like hell was he losing his command because of this fucker, or because one bratty kid couldn’t keep his goddamn comm open when in the field.

But he wasn’t about to say any of that out loud. Shit had hit the fan enough already without involving Blackwatch’s newest and most liable member.

Speaking of McCree. The kid was resolutely avoiding all eye contact, sulking in his seat like a child who’d had his toy taken away. Gabe chewed the inside of his cheek, running the options over in his head. McCree hadn’t been here long, and he knew the higher ups were still hesitant about the logic of keeping the kid out of prison with the rest of his gang. It had been Gabe’s call, making him his responsibility.

“Write your report however you damn well please, Mitchells,” he settled on saying.

“You’re on thin ice, Reyes. Remember that.”

He’d remember well enough to kill this fucker first when he inevitably snapped from the weight of bureaucratic bullshit, that’s for sure.

The meeting wrapped up after that, no one wanting to linger in a room that felt like a minefield. One by one the team and officers filed out, following Mitchells while Gabe lingered behind. McCree hardly seemed to notice, only perking up once he saw the exodus thin out, the doorway free up. Gabe kept an eye on him, watching how he pretended his commander wasn’t there.

Gabe was pissed enough already, the blatant disregard only adding to it. The second they were alone in the briefing room, Gabriel turned on his subordinate. McCree was halfway out of his seat, but he froze like a deer caught in the headlights of a tank when hit with his glare.

Good. If he thought he was getting out of this without being torn a new asshole, he was dumber than he looked.

“Sit your ass down, _niño,_ ” he gritted through his teeth, looming over him to make him feel like the small, disobedient brat he was. “You and I are going to have a little talk.”

Instead of doing the adult thing and taking it with grace, McCree huffed and avoided his eye like any spoiled young buck too big for his breeches. He looked anything but like he was on the chopping block for being a hot-headed ass.

“Didn’t you hear, boss?” he asked, his attitude sharp. “Debrief is over.”

It was the furthest thing from over, especially if he was going to act like that.

“Not for you, it isn’t. What the hell do you have to say for yourself?” he demanded, loving the way McCree jolted when he raised his voice. Now he had his attention. “You fuck up the mission, you fuck up the objective, you fuck up my day- look at me when I’m talking to you!”

McCree lifted his head, an angry, cornered look on his face. “If you forgot, boss, I ain’t here ‘cause I enlisted.”

Was he really trying to put this on someone else? “Would you rather be rotting in a jail cell with those criminals you fell in with? You took the deal. You agreed to turn over a new leaf. You think you’re making up for all the shit you did by being a cocky little gun-crazed brat?!” he snarled.

It hit a nerve and McCree flinched, looking steadfastly at the ground. “I ain’t like you,” he hissed, kicking at the leg of the table. “I do shit my way. If you don’t like it, you should’ve left me to rot.”

Gabe seethed. Grabbing the back of his chair, he swiveled it around to chase the eyes that kept avoiding him. “I saw something in you, took a chance on you, and you’re pulling this bullshit?” he ground out, hating how the kid was so goddamn cocky after single-handedly making everything go to shit. “I’m trying to make a decent man out of you, you fucking brat—”

“I didn’t ask you to!” McCree cut in, sharp and insistent and as ballsy as any idiot who didn’t know anything about life. “I didn’t ask for any of this!”

That was fucking rich. The kid had been nearly in tears in that cell, begging for a chance to do the right thing. His dumbass bravado was going to get him killed one of these days. “You don’t get a choice in the matter,” he shouted, losing grip on what little control he had left.

“You ain’t my pa!”

And Gabriel stopped in his tracks, grinding his teeth hard enough to ache. That complete and utter _brat_.

“Stand up.”

McCree frowned, caught off guard. “What?” he asked, letting his chair fall back onto all fours.

Gabe glared, his temper crumbling fast. “I said, stand up, brat,” he repeated, leaving no room for questions or complaints.

Slowly, the kid stood from his chair, kicking it back so he could stand up as haughtily as humanly possible. Posture terrible and lip curled into a pout, he resolutely avoided eye contact. “You called, boss?” he muttered.

There was nothing contrite about him. McCree glowered at the floor like a child waiting to be chastised in the principal’s office. Gabe grabbed him by the hair, yanking his face up. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth, _niño,_ ” he murmured, staring into a face that was only just beginning to look concerned.

“You gonna kiss me or somethin’?” McCree breathed, doing his damnedest to be resilient and obnoxious until the end.

It’d serve him right if he broke his jaw. A nervous tongue sneaked out to lick at his chapped lips, his stress making him fidget. Gabe couldn’t stand it. The kid’s hair was so soft in his hand when he grabbed it tight, the shock a sharp taste on his lips when Gabe forced his head up for a bruising kiss.

There was nothing shy about it, at least, not when McCree’s brain caught up to what was happening. Warm brown eyes closed with a muted moan, his jaw going lax to allow him in deeper. Gabe had utter control over the kiss, something that hardly reflected at all the attitude the brat had thrown around just moments before.

It brought up the question of how much he’d allow him to do, so long as it was Gabe doing the touching. Pulling away from the soft, submissive mouth, he yanked the kid back, forcing him to look him in the eye for just a moment more.

“Woah, Gabe, what’re you—”

“Shut up,” Gabe ordered, taking him by the back of the neck and forcing him to his knees. He chanced a glance at the door of the conference room, the distance and time between them. One look down at McCree though, startled and wide-eyed, and he decided against going for the lock. Fuck it. It wouldn’t be the first time operatives had been caught getting busy on base.

If it really came down to it, it might do the kid some good getting knocked off that high horse of his.

The first thing he did was knock that stupid hat off his head though. The second, after he ignored the offended squawk, was thread his fingers through that damnably soft hair, guiding him forward until McCree’s nose was nearly shoved into his belt buckle.

“What’s goin’ on?” McCree asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft, his hands coming up to rest lightly on Gabe’s thighs. “I thought—”

“Shut up,” he repeated, wondering how many times he’d have to say it before even that simple command stuck. He gave a harsh yank to the hair in his hand, figuring it was only right to make the brat hurt a bit, given all he’d done. “Take off my holster.

It was pretty obvious that that was the last thing he expected to be told to remove. Instead of making him cocky though, the confusion kept him meek, his eyes locked on the task at hand while his fingers fumbled with the straps. Every time he chanced a look back at the door, he was punished with another yank to his hair. After the third time, he stopped looking back.

When McCree held the holster in his hands, he forced his eyes up. The cut on the kid’s cheek made him look so young, like some child fresh from a schoolyard scrap. “Give me the gun,” he ordered quietly, savoring the glimmer of fear that flickered across McCree’s face. “Are you scared?”

For once, it didn’t look like he was going to try and lie. Cradling the gun in his hands, he tightened his grip on it, his doe-eyes wide and pitiful. “Gabe….” He tried to look away, settling on closing his eyes when he found he couldn’t turn his head to manage it. “Are you gonna kill me?”

Gabe snorted out a laugh, something that earned him a glare. “We don’t kill brats for being brats, _niño,_ ” he told him, making a motion for the gun when it still wasn’t handed over. “They tend to get themselves killed before I have to intervene.”

That frightened pout morphed into a scowl quickly enough, the gun then shoved into his hand with more force than strictly necessary. A bright blush sat high on his cheeks. “Then what was that kiss for?” he demanded, looking more than a little embarrassed.

Raising a brow, he thumbed the safety and checked the clip. “Sure wasn’t a kiss goodbye,” he gave, laughing when McCree’s little scowl turned darker. “I ain’t your pa, remember? I’m going to teach you a lesson he never got around to. Open your mouth.”

McCree balked. “What for—” but that was as far as he got before Gabriel grabbed his jaw and opened it for him, shoving the barrel of the gun in his mouth. The effect was instantaneous. The kid froze in place, as pale as a corpse with his fear. He managed a choked whine, but it wasn’t enough to dissuade him from what he intended to do.

“Now, Jesse,” he led, using the kid’s name in a way that got him his undivided attention instantly. “I want you to listen to me for once in your life. If I tell you to do something, you do it.”

The kid stared up at him and blinked quickly, his pink lips wrapped around the smooth gunmetal. A blush rushed to his cheeks, washing away his pall with something else entirely.

“I want you to show me you can obey,” Gabe murmured, working the gun back and forth, in an out, going deeper each time until even the brat could understand the rhythm of the situation. “Else I might just skip the middle man and get rid of you so no one else has to put up with your dumbass bull.”

It was unreal how eager he was to please. Whether or not he trusted Gabe to keep his finger off the trigger, McCree took in the gun with a single-minded intensity that defied all expectation. Hollowing his cheeks while he sucked, he closed his eyes and fellated the barrel, tiny, almost unheard sounds catching in his throat. Gabe felt them more than heard them, the small vibrations traveling up the metal and through his fingers.

“You little slut,” he said, unable to keep the thought in his head. “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you? I tell you to stay put and provide cover and you ignore me, but I tell you to open your mouth and you go down on my gun like a trained whore.”

McCree was anything but insulted. His cheeks flushed a deep pink and his eyes were near blown, no trace of fear left to poison the want so thick on his face. It made him wonder how often he did this, and whether or not he was used to getting down on his knees at the behest of those above him.

He wondered how the kid would look on his dick, if he’d look half as good there as he did taking his gun.

It was too much to resist, and he was too hard now to even try. “Let it go,” he ordered, his voice a rough purr, and he nearly shivered when McCree parted his lips and let the gun go with a wet, saliva-slicked kiss to the long barrel. His eyes were blown with arousal. Gabe wanted to see more.

With his mouth empty and nothing left to keep him occupied, the brat went for the next obvious thing. He rested his hands on Gabe’s belt, staring up at him imploringly. “Can I?” he breathed, his voice a whisper.

“Do it,” he said, before his brain could catch up with what his body sorely craved. “Take me out and do it.”

For once in his life, McCree listened eagerly. The belt lasted for maybe a second against his hurried hands, the button and fly even less. Cool air kissed his fevered skin and then that mouth was on him, the kid wasting no time in teasing before he swallowed him down. Gabe grabbed his hair and kept the pace under his control, holding his subordinate in check, but only just.

One look down at him and it took everything he had not to blow his load right there. Who would have thought the brat would look so good sucking cock? “Come on, _niño,_ ” he grunted, thrusting in deeper until the boy choked. “Make me proud.”

McCree moaned around him, his tawny cheeks flushed bright with his excitement. Eyes as dark as pitch stared up at him, his hands working what wouldn’t fit in his mouth. Faster and faster he bobbed his head, saliva dripping down his chin the more he moved. Gabe marveled at the skill and speed, wondering where all of that disappeared to when they stepped into the field. The kid was good, but this seemed to be the only time he willingly took direction.

He couldn’t help but wonder how far that extended.

He was an inch from finishing in McCree’s mouth when he forced himself to pull the kid off his dick, though the sound of utter denial nearly did him in anyway. “Take off your pants and bend over the table,” he ordered, his head spinning when the boy rushed to comply, the acquiescence heady all on its own. “They teach you to suck dick in that gang of yours?” he asked, reaching for McCree’s waist when he didn’t move fast enough.

“Natural talent, sir,” McCree reported, looking halfway to wrecked already. His pants, heavy with that stupid belt buckle of his, clattered down around his ankles, catching on his boots.

Natural talent, his ass. Gabe kicked his legs apart, spreading them wider while he nearly tore his boxers apart at a chance to get to his bare skin. “You look better wrapped around my cock than you ever have disobeying me, _niño,_ ” he murmured in his ear, cupping him roughly to make him groan.  

McCree shook like a leaf in a storm, his skin radiating heat and a need to be touched. Gabe rolled his cock against his ass, using the spit to keep it slick while he teased him. It was obvious the kid was no stranger to this, if the way he presented his ass for him was anything to go by.

But, no matter how often he’d gotten fucked in the past, Gabe wasn’t doing this dry. He was mad at the kid but he wasn’t looking to torture him. At least, not like that.

“Put that mouth to work some more, _bonito,_ ” he praised, bringing his fingers to the kid’s mouth to take into his warm, wet mouth. “Get them nice and wet for me. I’m going to fuck you until you beg me to forgive you.”

He could feel the moan play out against this fingers, the boy opening up for him so willingly it almost bordered on sluttish. His tongue lapped at him, coating him liberally with saliva, preparing his hand before Gabe used it to take him to pieces.

It didn’t take long before he became too impatient to wait any longer. Pulling his hand free, he ignored the whine and set to stretching him, feeding him two fingers to speed things up. McCree choked and gasped, bearing down on him for more, wriggling his hips to chase every diminutive thrust of his hand.

The way he took it told him he was no virgin. He didn’t think too hard about the white hot possessiveness that rose up in his gut at the thought.

“Do you want it?” he asked, curling his fingers to make the kid cry out like a seasoned whore. “Do you want me inside you, filling you up until all you are is mine?”

“Please,” McCree whined, spreading his legs as wide as he could when he began to press inside a third finger. “Oh, god, daddy, please—”

Gabe froze, the heat doubled by that single word. His hand shook but he moved it faster, sweating like a sinner in church when the kid kept it up, calling him that every single time he hit that spot inside that sent him crying.

“Do you want daddy to fuck you?” he asked, stumbling over the word for a second, weighing it on his tongue. He kept up his pace, driving his fingers into the greedy hole until the sound of it rivaled McCree’s moans. “Do you want daddy to fuck you until you’ve learned your lesson, Jesse?”

It was the use of his name that really did it. McCree shook and jolted, turning his head to peek at him with tear-damp eyes. “Please,” he mouthed, unable to find the breath to speak. “Daddy, please, give it to me.”

When he asked like that, Gabe couldn’t quite bring himself to say no. He retracted his fingers as gently as he could, holding tight to the kid’s hip to keep him in place when he instinctively tried to follow. His dick was still wet with saliva from the blow job, but he still spat into his hand to give it another coating, despite everything still worried about hurting him too badly.

“Stay still for me, _niño,_ ” he murmured in his ear, kissing his neck while he lined himself up. “You want to make me proud, don’t you?”

“Daddy, oh god, please, I do,” McCree breathed, his voice but a whisper on his shaking exhales. “’s all I want.”

He couldn’t hide the smile that split across his lips, so he pressed inside instead, high on the thrill of having his most unruly pupil submissive and obedient below him. McCree was blindingly tight around his cock, stealing the breath from his lungs like a punch to the gut.

The boy wasn’t any better off. His breath came choked and short, his body shaking the deeper he went. White knuckled hands clenched on air and scratched at the shiny conference table, but there was nothing to hold onto while he was torn from his reason.

The first thrust felt like heaven, the price McCree’s sanity.

“Daddy—” he moaned, nearly loud enough to travel through the room’s walls. Acting fast, Gabe rammed in hard, stealing his voice before it could carry.

Wrapping his hand around the kid’s throat, he applied pressure, cutting off the moans until they sounded thin and reedy. “Do you like it when I tell you what to do?” he asked, biting down on McCree’s ear to make him shudder and tighten around him. “I want you to like it. I want you to feel that little thrill of pleasure when I tell you you’ve done good. I want you to crave it.”

McCree sobbed brokenly into his crossed arms, lifting up onto his toes to improve the angle of the thrusts. Everything about him spoke of his submission, his complete and utter relinquishment of control perfectly clear to any who cared to look. Gabe drank it in and held him tighter, fucking into him harder, determined to fuck his will into his disobedient brat until he couldn’t even imagine going against orders again. 

“You’re mine now,” he went on, feeding his words into the brat’s ear, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. “If I give you an order, you listen. If I tell you to stay put, you stay put. If I tell you to get on your knees, what do you do?”

There was no way for him to reply given the hand keeping him from breathing, so he relaxed his grip. McCree choked on the air in his rush to fill his lungs, his eyes watering and his face flushed bright red. “I get on my knees,” he managed to get out, bucking into him for more. “Please, daddy, come on,” he whined breathlessly, turning his head to look him in the eye. “Harder.”

Warm brown eyes grew wide when he forced his head back down, slowing the movement of his hips that much more. “You haven’t learned anything if you’re still trying to tell me what to do,” Gabe said, his voice a harsh rasp. His hand went tight around McCree’s throat again. “Daddy will ruin you, _niño._ Do you want that? _”_

The boy whined pitifully, his fingers scrambling for traction against the smooth wood of the conference table. He couldn’t speak, not like this, but he did everything he could to tell him yes. The cant of his hips, the glint in his eye, it all screamed his need to be collared, broken, owned.

Gabe was only too happy to comply.

He fucked him hard and fast, the force of it scooting him across the table with every buck of his hips. The hand around his throat loosened just enough to keep him on edge, to keep him dizzy with breathlessness but still coherent enough to appreciate the control Gabe had. It brought the wide gap in their skills to the forefront of everything; control versus chaos, restraint versus uncontainable need.

It wasn’t a surprise when McCree lost the battle spectacularly, cumming with a breathy, strangled whine. He tightened around him like a vice, clamping down as his orgasm cut through him, and Gabe let go of his throat to let him gasp for air, fucking in harder to chase his own end.

“Daddy, do it inside me,” McCree begged, his voice wrecked, and that did him in, just like that.

Gabe came with a groan, his teeth sinking into the kid’s shoulder to stifle the sound while he filled him with his release, the cum dripping down his thighs every time he thrust in and out. It’d been a while, too long in fact, since he’d last done this, and the pleasure was near damning.

It felt good enough to blot out the fact that he was doing this with his subordinate, which was something he was grateful for, at least in the moment. He was sure this would be hellish the moment reality came crashing back in, but until that happened, he dedicated himself to fucking his cum into the kid as far as he could, enveloping the boy in his arms until he nearly disappeared.

“You feel so good, Jesse,” he murmured in McCree’s ear, savoring the weak moan it bought him. “Don’t you like being good for me?” Gabe certainly could get used to it, if it meant having the brat so sweet and pliant and obedient. Here or on the field, he didn’t care, so long as he got to enjoy it.

He got a moan in response, one that went sharp a moment later when the sensations got too much for him to handle. McCree whined and fidgeted, trembling a little when Gabe finally gave him a break and pulled out. Cum trickled down his thighs, the mess growing bigger.

The second he wasn’t sheathed inside the boy, reality came crashing in to fill the void. What the hell had he just done? Gabe bit his lip, finding it easier to think now that the tension was gone and he’d gotten off inside his youngest and most unruly subordinate.

Just looking at him made his stomach sink and his head spin.

Bright marks collared his tan throat. Gabe knew already that it’d be bruised in a couple of hours. A measure of guilt flickered along his spine the more he stared, but McCree met his eyes, the corners of his lips tilted up in a weak smile.

Falling into the nearest chair, he tried to catch his breath. The door was still unlocked, he realized, looking towards the entrance. What a sight this would make. Him on his ass in a chair with his dick still out, and his youngest subordinate and personal responsibility face down on the stained conference table, his pants around his ankles and his ass dripping cum.

Gabe buried his face in his hand. What a clusterfuck this turned out to be.

“Am I allowed to talk now?” McCree asked quietly, his voice as rough and ruined as he looked.

“Nope,” Gabe said, not wanting to look at him and see for himself how much he wrecked this kid.

He could feel the brat’s frown. “Fine then,” he said, still talking despite it. “I’ll just talk to myself since you got ‘bout as much romance in you as a cactus.”

Peeking through his fingers, he caught the kid trying his best to clean himself up, and true to his word, McCree didn’t stop talking.

“Can’t believe this is what you Overwatch guys get up to when you don’t get your way,” he grumbled, his ears a bright, livid red. “I’m gonna be so sore tomorrow and you can deal with that yourself when I can’t train for nothin’.” The buckle on his belt chimed and rustled when he went to pull up his pants, grimacing at the feeling of the mess he’d have to take care of later once he was finally let loose to return to the barracks.

“At least I’m not the one with the obvious daddy issues here.”

McCree froze and turned his head up, his cheeks violently red and his expression livid. “I got my own issues but you’re no better, Mr. I-Get-Off-On-Being-Called-Daddy,” he shot back, yanking his belt back into place with rough, practiced motions.

There really wasn’t much to say to that, and he hardly felt himself in a place to be pulling rank here, especially given the circumstances.

“Are you embarrassed?”

He didn’t want to answer that.

McCree latched onto the weakness with all of the intent of a shark scenting blood, crawling into his lap to force his attention back to him. The door was still unlocked, Gabe’s mind supplied unhelpfully. He didn’t know if this would be worse, should someone finally come calling to see where he had gone.

“Have you never done this before?” McCree probed, peering around his hand to try and meet his eyes.

“Have you?” he asked, letting the kid grab him by the wrist and pull it away from his face.

Smiling that crooked, damned smile of his, McCree laughed. Right in his face, laughed. “Oh, boss,” he chuckled, his accent getting thicker the more he broke down. “You ain’t my first rodeo.”

He didn’t know what was worse, the fact that the kid had been fucked before like that or that he referred to sex as a rodeo. Gabe settled on getting mad, since anger was safe, and he tore away his hand to wrap back around the bruised throat, matching his fingers to the dull bruises already beginning to purple.

The effect was instantaneous. McCree’s breath hitched, his posture going loose and submissive. He wasn’t laughing now, and Gabe wondered if this was the best way to shut the brat up when he got too uppity for his taste.

“You are such a brat,” he huffed, unsure of what to do now. It probably wouldn’t be in good form to keep the kid on a leash, and he could only imagine how concerned the rest of the organization might get should he ever grab McCree around the throat to keep him in line.

“Daddy,” McCree breathed, his eyes closed and his hands resting lightly on Gabe’s chest. “Didn’t I do good? I made you feel nice.”

Gabe’s eyes went wide and he ignored how his dick tried to stir to life again. This was bad, his mind screamed. This was so bad.

It was bad, but it didn’t erase why they were here, in an Overwatch conference room and not a bedroom, or even a room with a lock on the door. Gabe’s good mood soured, McCree sensing it like a bloodhound scenting a fox.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, leaning in for a kiss like he was welcome to it. Given how roughly Gabe had treated him, it was the least he could do. “Are you still mad at me?”

“You nearly got yourself killed. You ruined the mission and I got my ass handed to me by a man who wouldn’t know a cigar from a snub nose.” Mad was an understatement.

McCree frowned, pulling away just enough to snag his fallen hat from the floor and situate it back on his head. “Why didn’t you tell him it was all me?” he asked, something almost like maturity in his voice. “Ain’t like you to take a beatin’ meant for someone else.”

It was Gabe’s turn to avoid eye contact, something that wasn’t easy given he had a lapful of curiosity staring him in the face. “I’m the one in charge—”

“Don’t go spoutin’ that bull,” McCree cut it, chasing his running gaze. “If that had been any other fuck-up, you’da lain them out flat, none of this martyr bullshit.”

He was so grateful his skin was dark enough to hide his flush. That was probably right, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. If it had been some seasoned, established enlisted type who’d botched the mission, he wouldn’t have bothered taking the fall. McCree was his responsibility. His leap of faith, though the kid would never hear him say that out loud.

Somehow though, the brat still seemed to sense it. The shit-eating grin was indication enough.

“You don’t want me to go,” McCree crowed, looking like Christmas had come early. “You like me and you don’t want ‘em to throw me back in jail. Never woulda pegged you for a softie, boss.”

He’d made such a mistake, he realized in that moment. McCree burrowed into his arms, smiling like a loon but with twice the intent. “I should’ve let them cart you back to prison,” Gabe muttered, crumpling like paper when the kid leaned in for a kiss.

“Probably,” McCree grinned, “but I think I’ll learn my lesson better like this.”

**Author's Note:**

> this one was a lot of fun ngl. if youd like to see more of my work or even just show me some love, check me out on tumblr (terminallydepraved) and let me know what you thought!! until next time~


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